


synopsis of a calendar

by iwillalwaysbelieve



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Fluff, M/M, college student younghyun, florist jae, idk if i'd really call this slow burn, jaebeom's a pretty minor character i was hesitating about tagging him, not really - Freeform, they're just soft boys who try to talk about their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:16:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillalwaysbelieve/pseuds/iwillalwaysbelieve
Summary: "january is daphnes, according to the little note at the bottom of the picture, petals covered in frost, and younghyun sighs and digs a black pen from his bag, and a minute later a tiny flower adorns one corner of the square for january ninth, an x over the blank space.something in him dreads talking to sungjin; he hasn’t been in the apartment over the flower shop for longer than two hours, and yet he can see himself staying here, finding a home amongst flowers and winding staircases and mugs of fragrant tea."in which we ignore jae's pollen allergy and give him a flower shop, and younghyun's just a college student doing his level best to understand why his calendar predicts his future.





	synopsis of a calendar

**Author's Note:**

> if i had to give this background music it would be the suspicious partner ost bc it's soft

january

on the ninth day of january younghyun finds himself on the street, staring up at his apartment with his bags in his hands, trying not to cry because he knows the tears will just freeze and make him colder. for all he had suspected his girlfriend was cheating on him, he never expected _she_ would be the one to kick _him_ out of the apartment. but he was too stunned by her announcement to put up much of a defense; she seemed almost _proud_ of what she had done, and so he packed his things and left per her instructions, and now he has nowhere to go.

he supposes maybe he could crash with sungjin, but the grad student has enough on his plate with his studies to worry about younghyun.

with a sigh younghyun lets his knees give out and he sinks to the curb to pull a thicker jacket out of his bag. it won’t be enough, not without somewhere to go, but it’ll be better than nothing. he sits, shivers, thinks, and once he starts to lose feeling in the tips of his ears he settles on sungjin, tells himself he’ll just be a quiet presence in the flat without being a distraction or a problem.

picking up bags with stiff fingers is no easy task but he manages, huddles further into his jacket, and begins the twenty-minute walk to sungjin’s part of the city.

he’s maybe halfway there when he passes a tiny flower shop, the display in the window somehow still bright and blooming despite the cold. he doesn’t know much about flowers, but he knows sungjin’s boyfriend does, so younghyun looks for the name of the shop so he can remember to bring sungjin back here, but just as he sees “thistledown” in looping gold script one of his bags slips off of his shoulder and his reflexes are not quick enough to catch it.

he groans and bends to pick it back up, and then the door to the shop opens with the tinkling of a bell and younghyun looks up to see a young man standing in the doorway, concern in dark eyes.

“you okay?”

“f-f-f-fine,” younghyun stutters, nearly biting his tongue with harshly chattering teeth.

“i mean, obviously you’re not. come in for just a minute to warm up. you’ll be an ice cube if you stay out there any longer.” if this is some sort of marketing ploy, offering warmth to a freezing stranger, younghyun has to admit it’s effective, and so the shop worker slings younghyun’s bag over his own arm and leads younghyun into the shop. “i’m jae. you?”

“y-y-y—”

“never mind. tell me in a minute when your teeth stop chattering.”

younghyun expects jae to have a place to sit in the shop itself, but instead jae leads him up a spiral staircase hidden behind the counter and several stands of trailing vines to a cosy little apartment above the shop. he throws a few blankets at younghyun, helps him take his bags off of his shoulders, and bustles about making a cup of tea in the tiny kitchen as younghyun curls up in an armchair and surveys the place.

“here.” a warm mug is held out to younghyun, and he reaches out but his fingers are so stiff he thinks he’ll never be able to hold it properly, until a pair of warm, slender hands wrap around his own and keep the mug steady as younghyun warms his fingers.

jae seems content to wait, studying younghyun with steady eyes, and finally younghyun regains enough feeling in his limbs to lift the mug to take a sip, and with the way jae’s hands linger for a moment he thinks maybe jae will hold on even as he drinks, but a second later he lets go and lets younghyun do it for himself. the tea is fragrant and sweet and, most importantly, warm, and jae flashes a hint of a smile when younghyun sighs appreciatively.

it appears jae’s not much of a talker, as they sit in silence until the tea warms younghyun’s insides and his teeth settle a peace treaty and stop attacking one another. “i—i’m younghyun,” he says, as soon as he can, only a little bit of a stutter left in his voice, though he’s not entirely warm yet.

“so, younghyun-ssi, what were you doing looking all the world like a puppy kicked out of its home and left to freeze to death?”

“my girlfriend kicked me out. i was going to stay with my friend, but it’s a bit of a walk and i didn’t have time to grab my proper coat when i left.”

“who’s this friend? and how far would it be from here to walk? any longer in this weather and i think i might find you tomorrow like an ice statue at a wedding—a very nice one, i might add.”

younghyun swears the flush in his cheeks is entirely due to the cold and definitely _not_ because jae is cute, soft edges and slender fingers and a sprig of tiny white flowers tucked behind his ear that emphasize the sparkle in his brown eyes. “park sungjin, he lives like ten minutes away.”

“park sungjin, grad student? music composition, dating im jaebeom?”

younghyun nods, surprised. “you know him?”

“we were in undergrad together. i dabbled in composition and had a few classes with him. he’s kinda busy to end up with a roommate, as far as i know.”

“i just...thought i would be quiet,” younghyun mutters. he realizes now it does maybe sound a little dumb, when he’s a music major and needs space to compose and practice, but he doesn’t really have other options. before he can voice this jae sighs, something in his expression that might be embarrassment, and fiddles with the flowers behind his ear.

“you could stay here for a bit, if you like, just until you find another place.” as soon as he finishes speaking he stands, grabs younghyun’s empty mug, and bustles about the kitchen pouring more tea, leaving younghyun blinking in shock behind him.

“wh—why would you do that for me?”

“jin has mentioned you a few times. you _are_ the kid he’s arranged guitar pieces for, right?” younghyun nods. “so i know you’re not a bad kid, and jin would be disappointed in me if i left you to freeze, and i have an extra bedroom that right now is just a storage place for a few flowers, and it wouldn’t be a problem, really. we can talk to sungjin tomorrow and see if he could make it work with you, so it might just be for tonight.”

younghyun sees jae’s hands freeze, when he has nothing else to do, but dithers about for a moment refusing to turn around until he has to, and there’s maybe a bit of a blush on jae’s cheeks as he meets younghyun’s gaze. “that would be nice, jae-ssi. if it’s no trouble for you, and i’m not really going to be here during the day so i’ll be out of your way when the shop is open.”

the extra bedroom is small, but the various succulents that line the windowsills and bookshelves make it cozy, just as the rest of the apartment is. “these are the succulents i have to keep a closer eye on in the winter,” jae explains. “i can move them into the dining room if you don’t want them in here—”

“they’re fine,” younghyun says. “they’re great.”

jae offers a small smile and ducks out of the room, and younghyun ignores the idea of unpacking his bags because he’ll probably be out of the apartment by tomorrow night, but he does reach into one pocket of one of his bags and pulls out a little paper calendar, eight days of it crossed off in red ink.

january is daphnes, according to the little note at the bottom of the picture, petals covered in frost, and younghyun sighs and digs a black pen from his bag, and a minute later a tiny flower adorns one corner of the square for january ninth, an x over the blank space.

something in him dreads talking to sungjin; he hasn’t been in the apartment over the flower shop for longer than two hours, and yet he can see himself staying here, finding a home amongst flowers and winding staircases and mugs of fragrant tea.

  
...

 

february

younghyun finds he’s rather gotten used to the flower shop. It takes two weeks for jae to find the time to talk to sungjin, and he doesn’t tell younghyun the details of the arrangement but the fact of the matter is younghyun stays in the little apartment above the shop, biking the five minutes to the university campus on jae’s bike and returning between classes to sequester himself away in a spot jae carves out near the counter of the shop, a table and chair set up as a study space hidden among the pots of cacti and other succulents. younghyun’s found he quite likes succulents, and jae’s let him take over taking care of the ones in his room.

his calendar is filled with flowers, and the delphiniums that make up the february page tuck themselves quietly among the plants in his room.

no matter how much he typically likes the plants, though, he’s frustrated enough he’s considering breaking a few pots, because he managed to forget for a bit about the idea of electives, and the psychology test he has tomorrow morning is kicking his ass. for the life of him he can’t remember the difference between explicit and implicit memory, much less the sequence of the peg-word system, and an hour ago he found it ironic that he can’t remember things about memory but now he’s seething, flipping through his notecards with increasing ferocity.

jae’s been by a few times to deliver fresh cups of green tea, though younghyun still prefers the chrysanthemum brew in the little jar beneath the counter.

an influx of customers came in recently, as it’s days away from valentine’s, and so a gaggle of giggly high school girls are clustered around jae blushing their way through asking him for flowers for the boys they want to confess to. younghyun thinks he’s going to throw his textbook at the girls if he hears one more simpering laugh at a pitch high enough to shatter his eardrums, because for all he’s learning about memory he sure can’t remember _anything_ , not with the way jae’s eyes light up as he tells the girls about the different flowers, the way his long fingers move so deftly to pluck stems from the arrangements and collect them into a new bouquet. jae looks like he’s glowing, blond hair backlit so he appears to have a halo.

younghyun tells himself the only reason he cares about these details is jae seems to be having a grand old time and younghyun is most definitely not; it has nothing to do with the fact that the girls are the ones taking up the florist’s time rather than younghyun.

with a sigh of frustration he gives up, lets himself fall forward until his forehead meets the middle of his textbook, beats a rhythm into the table with his free hand—the rhythm of the song he’s working on for his performance final. he wonders if maybe sitting there with his head on the textbook will help his brain absorb the information by process of osmosis. but he didn’t get any sleep the night before, and he was composing through the whole morning, and it doesn’t take long before he can barely force his eyes open, so he doesn’t, and a minute later all of the noise of the cafe fades away.

“younghyun?” the hand shaking his shoulder is gentle, cool fingers smoothing the hair away from his forehead as he slides his way into consciousness.

“mmph?”

“i let you sleep until i closed the shop. come upstairs with me. you’re too exhausted to keep studying like this.”

younghyun scrubs at his eyes and shoves himself to his feet, sways just a little before gathering up the scattered notecards while jae stacks up his books. they tramp their way up the spiral staircase until jae can force younghyun onto the couch.

“here’s the deal: you’re going to take a nap for twenty minutes, and then i’ll wake you up and help you study, and then you’ll go to bed at a decent time so that you’re well-rested for the test tomorrow.”

and that’s exactly what happens; the couch is surprisingly comfortable, and younghyun sinks his way into it until jae shakes him awake and hands him a cup of tea and quizzes him ruthlessly on his flashcards, and then just after a dinner full of more vocab terms and descriptions of experiments jae shoves younghyun into bed and sits on the floor.

“what’re you doing?” younghyun mumbles, already curling the blankets around his shoulders.

“making sure you don’t spend another two hours on your phone. you’re ready for the test, so sleep so that you’re awake for it.”

younghyun wakes the next morning to see jae’s familiar form still curled up on the floor, an extra blanket wrapped around him, and he laughs softly. it takes just a minute to drape another blanket over him and lean down to smooth some of the hair out of his eyes.

“thanks, hyung,” younghyun whispers, and he grabs his bag and a bite to eat and slips his way out of the shop, feeling more prepared for the test than he’s felt for any other.

  
...

 

march

as spring creeps its way into the air life creeps its way into jae; it’s not necessarily a sudden change, but as new shipments of color arrive for white day the same color inches into jae’s cheeks. he’s _vibrant_ , somehow, and though he barely tans his cheeks hold the slightest hints of pink as he bustles about arranging the new bouquets and the sunlight brings out the sparkle in his eyes when he ventures outside of the shop to set up signs and a few outdoor displays.

boys blush their way into the shop with notes on their phone of a girl’s favorite flowers or turn as scarlet as the roses as they stutter out a response when jae asks what they want the bouquet to mean. men are more confident from years of getting the same bouquet, more assured in their emotions, and as younghyun studies he thinks he likes them better.

when the shop’s not too crowded, it’s apparent jae prefers the blushing boys who allow him to wander the shop and explain the meanings of different blooms and give him more freedom to play with looks or weave flower crowns with nimble fingers.

jae laughed when he saw younghyun’s calendar this month; the purple lilacs that adorn it are said to symbolize the first feelings of love, which jae thinks is fitting for the current customers.

it’s on one of these days that younghyun meets jaebeom, when he comes in for flowers for sungjin.

the weather is shifting, but it’s also getting rainy and younghyun has to bike to and from school and consequently has woken up with a cold after getting drenched the day before. he’s only got afternoon classes today, so he drags himself out of bed late, picks at his breakfast until his scratchy throat protests too much for him to continue, and wraps himself in a blanket cape, scuffing his way down the spiral staircase with his hair still a mess.

jae meets him at the foot of the stairs, worry in his eyes. “younghyun—you look awful. are you okay?”

“thanks, hyung.” younghyun’s voice sounds like wolverine took his claws to his vocal cords, hoarse and scratchy and needing too much effort to get out audible sound. “bad cold, i think.”

a new man appears behind jae, strong features intimidating until he grins at something on his phone. his eyes widen when he sees younghyun and suddenly there’s a strong hand pressed to younghyun’s forehead and broad shoulders blocking his view of the rest of the shop as the stranger fusses over his tired eyes and stuffy nose and what is apparently a fever.

“jaebeom,” jae laughs, “you’re scaring him.”

it’s true that younghyun’s eyes are wide and he’s leaning back away from the stranger’s touch but he isn’t scared, more surprised; it’s been years since he’s had someone who fussed over him like this.

“you should be in bed,” jaebeom says. “have you eaten?”

“y-yes.” younghyun glances to jae for help, and the florist smiles.

“i’ll take care of him. tell minji to fix up your usual and take care of the shop for a while while i get younghyun settled.” jaebeom nods, though he lingers before leaving, clearly wanting to continue to take care of younghyun. “back upstairs we go,” jae says, and marches younghyun back to the little flat, hands cool on younghyun’s too-hot skin as he settles the young man on the couch. “i’ll make some tea to help your throat and grab your laptop and books if you want.”

younghyun nods, every muscle in his body aching while he does what he can to remain as still as possible and relax. he watches jae bustle about the little kitchen, blond hair in his eyes as he hovers over the teapot, dark eyes focused and serious as he prepares a mug and teabag, the pink peony tucked behind his ear bringing out the slight flush in his cheeks.

when jae approaches younghyun and he’s faced directly with the soft smile gracing jae’s lips and the halo of white and pink that frames jae’s face and the sparkle of gold and compassion in jae’s eyes he thinks his heart jumps a bit in his chest. he accredits it to his cough and brushes it off as he sips at the tea in silence for a moment.

“i’m sorry about jaebeom, before,” jae murmurs. “he just wants to take care of everyone.”

“it was fine, hyung.” younghyun smiles, pokes at jae gently.

jae looks up and returns the smile, seemingly relieved, and younghyun is struck by how beautiful jae really is. he’s ethereal, more so when surrounded by his flowers but even here it seems like he glows softly, harsh edges softened by petals and ribbon and the kind of shine in his eyes that only comes from doing something you really love. it’s so much more than just his appearance; he’s kind and gentle and sweet with the little girl that comes in every day after school because she says the shop is magic, and jae gives her a different flower each time, or weaves her a flower crown if he’s not too busy. he helps anyone who comes in, calm and soothing just through his mannerisms and the softness he exudes with roses in his hands and soil brushed across his cheek.

“i’ll grab your things,” jae says, still soft. “and you’ll call wonpil or whoever to get notes, but you’re not going to class, not like this.”

there’s something in younghyun’s chest, a tightness, as jae stands. his heart may skip a beat when jae brushes his dark hair away from his feverish forehead to press a brief kiss there with cool lips that are gone as quickly as they arrived, and he may hide his blush in a tissue when jae returns to pile his laptop and a few books next to the cup of tea.

“i’ll just be downstairs if you need me.” with that jae is gone, younghyun’s lungs aching with the absence of the warm presence. he groans, thumps his head back onto the arm of the couch, and fumbles for his phone.

wonpil’s contact name is the first one that pops up, and he keys out a message and closes his eyes, throws the phone back onto the coffee table so he doesn’t have to see the response.

_pil, i think i might have a crush._

  
...

 

april

“hyung, i’m leaving!” younghyun calls, already on his way out the door with wonpil tugging on his hand.

jae looks up from where he’s packaging a little cactus. “be safe!”

younghyun’s “i will” gets lost in the whirlwind of wonpil shoving him into the car and hitting the gas before younghyun has put his seatbelt on; they’re already late for their final recital preparation, and dowoon is going to be pissed. their final grades depend on this, considering how last practice went, but wonpil says there was an ungodly amount of traffic from the university to thistledown that no amount of panicking could fix.

wonpil screeches into the parking lot of the little studio half an hour past when they were supposed to start rehearsing, and the two scramble for their studio.

“dowoon, sorry,” younghyun gasps, and dowoon looks up from his drum kit and sheet music to fix younghyun with a glare. he might be the oldest in the trio, younghyun thinks, but by no means is he in charge, no matter what others might assume; dowoon can be _terrifying_ when he wants to be, when he’s filled with that single-minded determination to make a song the best it can possibly be.

the next forty-five minutes he gets lost in the haze of familiar notes and the usual ache that works its way into his left wrist, but by the time their lunch break rolls around he’s exhausted, flopping onto the floor next to wonpil and dowoon. he’s just taken a bite of food when dowoon turns to him and says, “i hear you have a crush on a certain florist.”

younghyun chokes on his rice. “where did you hear that?”

wonpil smirks. “guilty.”

“that wasn’t—i don’t—you weren’t supposed to tell people!”

“i only told dowoon, and it was only because i wanted his advice about talking to you.”

“talk to me about what, exactly?” younghyun is hunched over his food as though that will protect him, chopsticks clenched firmly in his hands.

“about making a move,” dowoon says. “why don’t you? it’s been almost a month since you mentioned it to wonpil.”

“i _live_ with him,” younghyun replies. “i can’t exactly ask him out and be wrong about how he feels and make things awkward and not have a place to live anymore.”

“but how do you know he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings?” wonpil shifts forward to study younghyun intently.

“because he’s straightforward most of the time and he would tell me if he felt like that and...i don’t know, but i swear to god if either of you breathe a word of this to him because you want to get it over with i will beat your ass.”

the other two laugh; it’s an empty threat and they know it, but the fact that he’s making it means he’s relatively serious about not wanting to mess it up.

“you must really like him.” dowoon’s softening a little bit, eyeing younghyun with the gentleness usually only reserved for his dog.

“god, you have _no idea_.” this startles a laugh out of younghyun’s friends.

“our younghyunie’s fallen hard, i see,” wonpil teases, and younghyun ducks his head into his knees in a vain attempt to hide his blush.

“he’s just so soft and kind and helpful,” he replies. “it’s like he _radiates_.”

dowoon laughs. “you should have seen him in college, according to sungjin. three cups of coffee a day, still that weird mix of sarcasm and friendliness, intimidated most of the underclassmen and made more than a few of them cry with his critiques. pretty sure at least half of his classmates were terrified of him.”

“what changed?”

“he opened thistledown. he loved music, still does, but after a while it became more something he was good at than something he loved. said his grandmother had a flower shop and taught him everything she knew, so working in one reminds him of home.”

that’s fitting, younghyun thinks, because the geraniums that make up the april page of his calendar mean comfort, and thistledown has become so much more than just his place of residence over the past few months. he relaxes almost instantly upon stepping into the shop even after a long day, and the winding maze of flowers is more familiar to him than the path to campus, even as jae changes the displays almost daily. more than that, though, _jae_ is home, now, his easy smile and nimble fingers and aura of calm that envelops younghyun like the hugs jae doesn’t really like to give.

“you do realize we’re going to give you as much shit as possible until you say something?” dowoon grins that grin that means nothing good will come of this, and younghyun sighs.

“i know. just, _please_ , let me tell him on my own terms.”

“that’s fair,” wonpil says, and then they all look up as the timer on dowoon’s phone rings to signal the end of their break from practice. “ready to go again?”

  
...

 

may

the third week of may is finals.

younghyun’s not too worried about most of them, but his guitar instructor has decided to make the final a competition between all of his classes. students are still graded individually, but the top three get bonus points, plus prestige, and younghyun is itching to perform.

they’re allowed to invite whoever they want to fill the seats, and wonpil is already promising to drag sungjin and jaebeom away from domestic life and terry didn’t really take any persuading.

of the people younghyun cares about, this leaves only jae, but younghyun has put off asking him for as long as possible. he wants jae only to see the best show younghyun can give and he’s been struggling with the ending of his solo, and the idea of inviting jae to see such a failure has younghyun’s hands shaking any time he approaches the florist.

but may is dandelions, and younghyun has taken to seeing the calendar as something of a prediction for the month, since things have been fairly accurate for the past four months, so he has a bit of confidence that he’ll figure out the song.

he’s still nervous when he approaches jae about it, leaning over the counter so he can hide his shaking hands as jae finishes wrapping up a bouquet for a customer.

“hey, hyung,” he starts, and jae looks over, and younghyun trips over his words as he finds himself the subject of that soft brown gaze.

“yeah?”

“i have, um, there’s this thing—it’s for one of my finals, and—”

“the recital thing?” younghyun nods. “wonpil’s been talking to me about that for a week now. wanted me to go, but i’m not sure that’s really my scene. and i’ve told minji she can have the day off that day so she can go see her sister perform so i’m not sure who would run the shop that day.”

younghyun’s lip is caught between his teeth, brow furrowed. he doesn’t quite know how to vocalize it, but something in him _needs_ jae at that performance, especially with how much time he’s spent worrying about asking him. “please?” he does what he can to widen his eyes and pout a little, the way jae always says is cute. “it would mean a lot to me if you were there.”

there’s a moment of hesitation; younghyun can see jae wavering, his face scrunching as he considers his options. “how much?”

“i think if you were there i could win.” he tries not to cringe, not with how ridiculous of a statement that is.

“a good luck charm?” jae’s smiling just a bit, the little grin he gets when he’s teasing, and younghyun relaxes.

“something like that.”

“if it’s that dire, i suppose i could close the shop for a day. it is a thursday, after all.”

“you mean it?”

“you had better win, is all i’m saying.”

younghyun can’t stop the grin from spreading across his face, and he shakes his hair out of his eyes as he dashes away with a “thanks, jae!” tossed over his shoulder. the laughter that chases him out the door keeps him grinning even as he bursts through the door of the studio.

a week later he’s sitting backstage with wonpil and dowoon, instruments in hand, when younghyun panics. “what if he didn’t come?”

“he did. you know he did, too, considering he wasn’t awake when you left. means he didn’t open the shop.” dowoon is calm, unflappable, eyes dark with stage makeup.

“i know, but still—”

“he’ll be here.” wonpil smiles softly. “he doesn’t back off on his promises, and he said he’d be here.”

before younghyun can voice any more of his anxiety the music for the previous song ends, and a stagehand pauses for a moment as the lights dim, and then in the blackout she’s waving at them to get onstage. there’s a split second after the lights come up before they start their song, and in that beat younghyun’s eyes fall on a familiar figure in the second row, blond hair lit faintly by the lights on the catwalks overhead. their eyes meet and jae gives younghyun a thumbs-up, and then the music starts and younghyun can’t really see jae anymore, not with the lights blinding him and his focus entirely on the chords.

but just knowing that jae is there makes younghyun relax, _feel_ the music the way he’s supposed to, the way he has trouble with when he’s uncertain. as the final note echos into silence he finds jae’s eyes again, reveling in the smile jae flashes.

they get offstage in the blackout, thumping each others’ backs and giving fist bumps, and wonpil reaches over to ruffle younghyun’s hair. “i told you he’d come, dork.”

“yeah.” younghyun is too happy to argue as they return to the green room to wait for their next performance.

his solo is last, a particularly tricky latin-inspired thing that keeps his fingers and his voice moving constantly, shows off the range in his tone, gives the spotlight to the flare of his falsetto and the precision of his hands.

the stagehand waves him onstage again and he finds his spot in the darkness, takes a breath in the moment of silence before the lights come up. he knows the song like the back of his hand, but the ending few measures are tricky, and he goes over it briefly, then thinks of jae. jae is here, watching, encouraging no matter what happens or how younghyun performs, comfort and honeysuckle wrapped up in a person, and younghyun relaxes.

the music starts and he _knows_ this is a good performance—a great one, even, every note exactly as it should be, exactly as he envisions it, and he hardly has to think as he sings. there’s no more hesitation before the ending, just flawless execution in what feels like a single breath, and then he’s finished and blinking in the heat of the stage lights as cheers erupt from the audience.

“there’s a reason,” terry says as the musicians meet friends in the house, “that they chose you to go last.”

younghyun looks to jae to see a nod and smile of approval. “it was a beautiful performance.”

younghyun grins his thanks, accepts sungjin’s slap on the back, and then the musicians are whisked away to get results from their teachers. third place goes to a boy with a beautiful classical piece, a piece the lighting designer had worked wonders on. second is a girl younghyun had been mesmerized by, her voice sinuous and flowing around the gentle notes teased out of her instrument. when they call younghyun’s name for first wonpil is cheering the loudest, but it’s jae who gets him into a hug first, surprisingly strong arms wrapped tight as he grins down at younghyun with that sparkle in his eyes again.

“couldn’t have done it without you,” younghyun says.

“good luck charm?” jae lets him go, smile never dropping.

“good luck charm.”

  
...

 

june

something is different after the performance.

younghyun is just confused, because he doesn’t think he’s changed, but jae avoids him as much as possible for a while, and they rarely speak. conversations, when they do happen, are short and terse, and where younghyun thought they would be in each other’s company more now that he’s not in school, jae finds new ways to invest himself in work and be busy any time younghyun wants to talk.

some time mid june younghyun realizes he misses jae. he misses their easy banter, sarcasm playing well off dorkiness, misses jae’s easy smile when younghyun comes downstairs in the morning, misses the way jae’s face softens as soon as he gets upstairs to the little apartment after a long shift. he misses jae always wanting to check up on where younghyun is going, misses careless teasing about jae sounding out the hangul in his business emails because he still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of reading in korean, misses gentle smiles and rare hugs and the way jae’s eyes light up when he gets talking about music theory now and again.

younghyun thinks he shouldn’t have to be missing these things, not when they live in the same apartment, but something is _wrong_ with their relationship and he doesn’t know how to fix it because he doesn’t know what’s wrong. he’s hoping desperately it’s not that he’s let his feelings show too much and scared jae off, because he’s been trying _so hard_ to keep that hidden to avoid this exact situation, but he doesn’t know what else it could be.

during one of their practices for an upcoming performance he complains about it to dowoon, who laughs at him. when younghyun pouts, wonpil takes pity on him.

“i’m sure it’s not you, younghyunie. maybe he’s wrestling with feelings of his own! maybe he realized he likes you finally and he’s trying to figure out how you feel as well!”

younghyun scoffs at that: of all of the pastel college girls and candy-sweet boys who trip their way into the little flower shop, younghyun is the least likely to be chosen. what does he have that those others don’t? he wasn’t even good enough for his past girlfriend, and she made his shortcomings _very_ clear when she kicked him out in january.

after a week or so more of the awkwardness, though, the little voice in the back of younghyun’s head starts to whisper that maybe wonpil was right. maybe that _is_ the reason jae keeps looking away whenever there’s a threat of eye contact, why he blushes a little when younghyun pulls out his exaggerated aegyo, why there’s more gardenias than ever around the apartment.

jae told him, when he asked, that gardenias represent joy, but younghyun did some of his own research and found that they can also mean secret love. he fumbled his phone out of his pocket the second he discovered this and texted wonpil frantically to try to puzzle out the likelihood of this being meaningful.

wonpil just told him he should ask jae out and discover the truth once and for all, and ignored younghyun’s sad emojis.

there’s no way younghyun has the confidence to make the first move, so he’s starting to content himself to never figuring it out and spending the rest of the time he stays in the apartment over the shop with jae avoiding him; no more late-night chats sitting on the floor with mugs of chamomile tea jae says helps with cramping and tired muscles, no more excited sparkle in jae’s eyes as he shows younghyun the new batch of succulents he’s got for the shop.

it’s as he’s on his way out the door, headed for rehearsal, that jae calls out to him from behind the counter. it’s a slow day, and minji has taken over pruning and replacing wilting blooms with fresh ones, so jae doesn’t seem to have much to do. the flower crowns he’s weaving are likely for himself and minji, and he seems bored with even those.

but younghyun hurries over, barely able to bite back a smile at the fact that jae is the one who instigated this conversation. “what’s up, hyung?”

“i just—” jae stops himself, slender fingers picking at the stems of the daisies he’s weaving together to stand out in minji’s dark hair, and younghyun thinks he sees the beginnings of a flush across jae’s pale cheeks. “i was wondering if, um, you might like to go on a date with me.”

younghyun can’t think. he isn’t sure if he’s breathing right. he thinks his heart might have stopped. there’s no way in _hell_ he heard jae properly.

“can you repeat that?”

“would you like to go on a date with me?” jae is more confident now, squares his shoulders and meets younghyun’s gaze properly for the first time in three weeks.

“i—yeah, yeah i think that’d be pretty cool,” younghyun breathes, and jae’s face splits into that familiar bright-eyed smile.

“i’ll see you after rehearsal, then.”

“y-yeah.” younghyun books it from the shop, stumbles into the studio in despair. “wonpil, wonpillie _help_ i said it would be _pretty cool_ what on _earth_ have i done?”

dowoon just laughs, wonpil orders him to wear that one pair of ripped jeans that show off his legs, and they start practice and younghyun does his best to focus. if he slips up a few more times than usual, well, no one really begrudges him that.

even exhausted as he is he practically sprints home, checks his phone every two seconds to see if jae texted him with their plans. finally, _finally_ , this might be real and not just another one of his shitty dreams that are only shitty because they’re dreams and not reality. jae smiles when younghyun races up the stairs and slams into the apartment.

“go shower and get dressed, and then we’ll leave.”

“where are we going?”

there’s a mischievous glint in jae’s eyes. “it’s a surprise.”

younghyun sighs, but he’s not going to get any more information out of jae; the florist is incredibly tight-lipped when he wants to be.

twenty minutes later he finds the apartment empty, so he goes downstairs to find jae by the counter, busy with something behind the counter. jae freezes for a second when he sees younghyun, eyes raking up and down younghyun’s body without a word. younghyun crosses his arms over his chest, a little uncertain, until jae smiles softly.

“you look wonderful.”

it’s nothing special, just a black button-down striped with white, that one pair of ripped black jeans tucked into loosely-tied combat boots, but when he sent dowoon a snapchat of it dowoon sent back “boyfriend material” as the a-okay, and his advice has paid off.

“i’m ready to go when you are.” he scuffs the toe of his boot into the floor, eyes jae nervously. there’s still time for jae to turn around and say it was all one big joke, reveal a hidden camera and laugh as younghyun’s life crumbles around him.

but all jae does is grab a cooler from behind the counter and ask younghyun to grab the blanket, and they pile the stuff into the car and younghyun has pieced together that they’re having a picnic. it’s sweet, and very much jae, who doesn’t particularly like making a big deal out of displays of affection.

the drive is silent—a little awkward, maybe, nervous, but also familiar. younghyun is relaxing a bit, falling into old patterns now that jae is speaking to him again.

the park jae picks is small, out of the way but pretty, and at this time of day is almost entirely empty. younghyun immediately understands why jae loves it, because the grass is covered in patches of wildflowers left to grow freely, covering the park in splashes of color.

they spread their blanket by the little pond and jae pulls bento boxes from the cooler and they eat and chat and it’s immediately familiar, but different in its own way because now they’re allowed to flirt more openly and call each other cute. younghyun takes the opportunities he gets to poke jae’s nose and jae pinches younghyun’s cheeks in retaliation and it all just feels _right_. like this is where their friendship has been headed for months and this is the only logical progression of events, and younghyun _loves_ it.

halfway through eating jae reaches into his bag and pulls out a flower crown, only it’s so _different_ from what he was making earlier because it’s made of succulents, with the occasional sprig of baby’s breath tucked among the green, and it’s perfect. younghyun can’t stop grinning as he leans over to let jae nestle it in his hair. when he looks up to meet jae’s gaze he finds the elder speechless for the second time in the span of a few hours.

“hold still.” obediently, younghyun freezes as jae pulls his phone out and takes a picture, and then he poses ridiculously and lets jae take a few more. finally he pushes jae’s phone aside and stands, walks over to the place where the wildflowers start blooming in earnest.

“show me how to make one, hyung!” jae follows him and they forget their food for a while as jae helps younghyun pick flowers and weave them together so they fit neatly. when younghyun fumbles with the small stems jae places slender fingers over his and helps him, and they look up at each other at the same time, faces inches apart, and grin bashfully.

there’s no kiss, not yet, but younghyun thinks he wants to, and if the way jae sighs when they move apart is any indication, so does he.

younghyun crows in triumph when he laces the last bits of the crown together, and he sets it in jae’s blond hair carefully. this time it’s his turn to be at a loss for words, because the purple of the violets and white of the viburnum serve only to accentuate how ethereal jae is. he looks like he’s glowing, even in the semi-darkness that has fallen as the sun set, and younghyun forgets how to breathe again.

they take turns taking pictures of each other, laugh and relax in each other’s company the way they used to, and for the first time in june younghyun is truly happy, content with jae tucked into his side as they stargaze.

they’re lucky they don’t see a shooting star, younghyun says when they begin to pack up, or they’d have to wonder if they had accidentally gotten sucked into a drama without their knowledge, with how cheesy that date was. jae’s smile turns a little sardonic when he murmurs something about how he doesn’t think dramas would ever have two guys fall in love, so younghyun winks at him and laces their hands together.

“that’s why i said it’s a good thing we’re not in a drama.”

as he crosses days off of his calendar now he laughs about the gardenias that make up the month’s page. it’s no secret, their love, not anymore, and there’s nothing but joy.

  
...

 

july

younghyun knows jae is going to absolutely _freak_ if dowoon has to carry him all the way into the shop. jae’s worried enough as it is from getting a text from younghyun saying they were on the way to the urgent care place nearby because he tripped down the stairs and did something awful to his ankle trying to protect his guitar; he doesn’t want to make it even worse.

but truth be told his wrist is still aching too much for him to use his crutches properly, and he’s tired from practice, and the brace around his ankle is frustratingly tight around the swelling, so he relents without too much of a fight and relaxes into dowoon’s arms.

jae is waiting anxiously by the door, arms outstretched as though to take younghyun from dowoon, and then seems to rethink that idea and merely flutters around them as dowoon makes his way up the stairs. it’s a bit awkward of a movement, considering how tight the spiral staircase is and how much younghyun has to tuck his feet in to avoid hitting the railing, but they make it work somehow.

before too long younghyun is nestled on the couch, his bad ankle propped on a pillow, and jae’s hovering.

dowoon seems to understand something of the glances jae and younghyun are exchanging and doesn’t linger, merely relays the doctor’s instructions and gives younghyun one last “rest and get better” and disappears back down the spiral staircase. younghyun makes a mental note to thank him, because this leaves jae free to kneel next to the couch and run a hand through younghyun’s hair and plant quick, anxious kisses to his cheeks.

dowoon’s tact is always appreciated, now more than ever. throughout the whole ordeal, from the second the pain flared in his ankle and he knew he was going to have to stop rehearsing to the waiting in the urgent care place to the irritation of the brace on the drive home, all younghyun wanted was jae’s careful attention and gentle fingers. there’s a softness to jae that he can’t find anywhere else, and he relaxes as jae tucks an ice pack further around younghyun’s ankle.

“you’re an idiot,” jae says, but his quiet tone betrays his words.

“injuries are part of life, hyung.” younghyun offers a tired smile. “clumsy as you are, i thought you knew that.”

“i do. doesn’t mean i’m not going to freak out, though. as your um. boyfriend.” the last bit seems tacked on as an afterthought, but younghyun clings to that.

“is that what we are? boyfriends?”

jae shrugs, ducks his head a bit in the way younghyun knows means he’s embarrassed. “i figured so, considering the dates and kissing and all that.”

this makes sense. it does. somewhere in younghyun’s brain there is a reasonable voice telling him he knew this was coming, had been thinking about it himself. but the rest of his mind is fixated on the flush of happiness in his cheeks and the lightness in his chest to hear jae give him such a title.

“boyfriends,” he repeats, and he can’t stop smiling, not when jae is giving him that cute shy grin that appears whenever something like this happens. younghyun wants to pull jae closer and give him kisses. he wants to tell jae how much this means to him, but he’s always been better with his hands than with words.

he grabs jae’s shoulder, tugs him against the couch and shifts to be as close as possible without falling off of the furniture, but in doing so he swings his legs to the side—the wrong side. his ankle slams against the back of the couch and he hisses in pain. jae wriggles out of his grip to fuss over repositioning the pillows and getting the ice pack settled once more around younghyun’s injury, muttering “idiot” over and over to himself even as he frets and smooths younghyun’s hair out of his eyes and ensures that the pain isn’t too bad.

“i’ll get you those painkillers,” he says, and younghyun nods; his ankle is still throbbing. as jae leaves younghyun pouts a little and wriggles further into the cushions and tries to focus more on etching jae’s little smile into his memory than on the pain in his wrist and the itch of the brace around his ankle. it’s not a hard thing to remember, not when jae walks up the stairs two days later and younghyun greets him with “my lovely boyfriend!”. much to younghyun’s delight this sparks that same embarrassed smile, and younghyun beams with pride.

the blush on jae’s cheeks matches the red carnations for july: commitment. younghyun is starting to think he got his calendar from a fortune teller.

  
...

 

august

an important thing to know about younghyun: he does dumb shit when he’s flustered. it’s how wonpil found out about his crush on jae, how jae found out about his crush on jae, and despite his boyfriend’s calming presence it never really has gotten better.

somehow, then, younghyun really shouldn’t be surprised things are going to go wrong when he sees her.

it’s the jacket, first. (his jacket, he thinks, eyes catching on the familiar worn leather, the rose patch ironed on to the left sleeve.) his jacket, why is someone wearing his jacket—and then he looks higher and sees the face he spent months memorizing, sees the waterfall of black hair he used to brush out of her eyes, and he short-circuits.

she’s _here_ , she can’t be here, not when he’s out with jae, not when he’s moving on and forgetting.

so younghyun does what he does best: something dumb. he reaches for jae, snatches at jae’s sleeve and whirls him around and kisses him, and if he wasn’t already short-circuiting he sure would be now. a million years in the future, a billion kisses from now, he still wouldn’t be used to the warmth, the familiarity of kissing jae.

there’s no time for this, though, no opportunity to melt into the kiss the way he wants to, and he backs jae into the doorway of the coffeeshop they were passing, turns his back to the stream of pedestrians and tries to blend into the wall.

jae, however, is not one to enjoy being manhandled, and shoves at younghyun’s chest until younghyun has to take a step back and refocus the fireworks in his stomach. “what the hell?” it’s not that jae’s _mad_ , exactly; younghyun knows what the flames of jae’s actual anger sound like, and this isn’t it. but he is annoyed, and his eyes spark. “not that i mind kissing you, but don’t you generally give a guy some warning first?”

“it’s not—”

“i thought we agreed to some rules about this, younghyun,” jae sighs, and as he runs a hand through his bleached hair the fireworks in younghyun’s stomach fizzle into sad bits of ash.

“hyung—”

“younghyun?”

the two syllables are like an anchor for younghyun’s heart, yanking it down, down, _down_ out of his chest. slowly, he turns, as though if he waits long enough to look at her she’ll go away. but she’s still standing there when he looks up, her eyes oddly amused. “it’s been a while,” she says, and he fumbles with a reply. “i see you’ve been doing well without me,” she adds, before younghyun can get anywhere close to replying.

he thinks maybe he’s blushing, or the heat in his face is rage—he can’t quite tell. “you were doing just fine even with me,” he manages to bite out, and behind him jae’s breath stutters in recognition.

“she’s—”

“yeah,” younghyun says. “she is.”

“moon hyerim,” she says, offers her hand and a sharp-eyed smile and a little bow to jae. “a pleasure to meet you.”

“i wish i could say the same.” jae returns the handshake, but only the slightest bit, and he drops her fingers like they burned him.

“younghyun’s been telling you bad things about me, then.”

younghyun flinches, but straightens when he feels the warmth of jae’s hand on the small of his back. “what kind of good things would i tell him?”

her eyes narrow, her long red nails flashing as she adjusts her glasses. “oh, i don’t know—when you wrote love songs for me, when you told me i was your moon and stars, when i got that internship and you prepared that whole picnic on the roof for dinner that night, that kind of thing?”

“i—i don’t—” younghyun isn’t usually this flustered. something about hyerim has always thrown him off, however, and it’s only accentuated by seeing her so suddenly.

“the funny thing about all the stuff you just mentioned?” jae steps forward, his shoulders brushing younghyun’s, and their fingers link almost secretly. “all of that revolves around you, so i’m not all that inclined to believe they show your good side. hyun doing stuff for you doesn’t make you a good person, it makes him one.”

her eyes narrow further, dart down to where their intertwined fingers have slipped out from behind jae’s back. “oh, younghyun,” she sighs. “did my breaking up with you hit you _that_ hard?”

“what— _no_.” younghyun jerks his hand behind his back, but the way jae squeezes his fingers pulls some of the fire from the bottom of his stomach and back into his lungs. “i came out to you two months into our relationship so that we could both talk about being in love with chris evans, don’t pretend like that’s something that only existed for those conversations.”

the heat in his chest is different now; it’s not the snap-fizzle- _pop_ of the fireworks he gets with jae, it’s the smoldering _burning_ fury of when she would come home late from _work_ or _studying_ or whatever lie she came up with that week. if younghyun crumbles to ash in these flames it won’t be the pleasure he finds in breaking apart under jae’s hands and jae’s lips and jae’s _pianissimo_ -soft eyes. he’s ready for a fight, now, the fight he never really got to have before she dumped him and his bags in the hallway outside the apartment.

maybe it’s the way his hands clench, maybe it’s the way he draws in breath sharply, maybe it’s the way the fire _cracks_ behind his ribs so loudly he thinks jae has to be able to hear it, but jae tugs at their hands until younghyun stumbles a step back and behind him.

“breathe,” he hisses, and then turns back to hyerim. “i wish i could say it was nice to meet you—but it really wasn’t, and i’m not in the habit of lying to people. now, younghyun and i have places to be, so. try not to bother us again, yeah?”

before younghyun can protest he’s being pulled away, his last glimpse of hyerim one of her staring after them over the frames of her fake glasses, head cocked inquisitively.

“hyung,” he complains, when they’re a block away. “i can fight my own battles.”

“clearly you can’t.” jae raises an eyebrow at him. “i thought we’d talked about boundaries.”

“i know, i just—i panicked, but i got over it and—i’m sorry, i _know_ —” he runs his free hand through his hair, tugs at the longer strands falling in his eyes. “i’m sorry.”

“i know you are, but it still wasn’t okay with me. when we get back to the shop, why don’t we talk about some things you can do differently if we see her again?”

there’s a steady warmth in younghyun’s stomach now. it’s not the fire from before, just glowing coals that fill his belly with contentment, knowing jae cares enough to work at communication.

“after can we make alfredo and watch ghibli movies?” mostly he wants to prod jae into making up meanings for the flowers in _kiki’s delivery service_  so he can ignore the anemones on his calendar, ignore the tugging in his gut from being reminded of his abandonment in january.

“if you want to cuddle,” jae says, a smile tugging at his lips, “you just have to ask.”

“bold of you to assume i wanted to cuddle? i just want good food and soft movies.”

“fine, then, i guess we won’t cuddle?” jae pulls his hand free of younghyun’s and makes use of his longer legs to create a bit of distance between them.

younghyun hurries to catch up, latches onto jae’s arm, and peers up at him with an exaggerated pout. “can we cuddle tonight, hyung, _pretty please_?”

jae laughs, reaches down to ruffle younghyun’s hair. “i thought you’d never ask. now come on, we’ve still got shopping to do for fall semester, and if we don’t get it done today you’ll complain all next week when i say i’m busy.”

  
...

 

september

alstroemeria is for friendship, so it makes sense that wonpil’s wide eyes are what first tip younghyun off that there’s something wrong.

he realizes what the issue is when he turns to see hyerim slip her bag off her shoulder and put a hand on the back of the chair next to him. “is this seat taken?” he blinks in surprise at her. “thanks,” she says, before he can answer, and sits smoothly.

wonpil nudges him, raises an eyebrow in her direction, and just generally looks confused. younghyun’s not surprised she’s in the class—they’re both music performance majors (that’s why they started dating, to begin with) and the class is a common one for fourth-years to take. he’s more surprised she’d sit next to him, though the glint in her eye tells him she’s not there to be friends.

“can we help you with something?” wonpil leans around younghyun to pin her with a glare, and younghyun has to admit wonpil can be _scary_ when he chooses to. but hyerim just smirks at younghyun.

“what have you been up to this summer break?”

she knows what he did. it was made pretty clear at the end of their conversation in august, so he knows she’s goading him—he just doesn’t know what for.

“i spent a lot of time with my boyfriend,” he replies, since he doesn’t yet see a reason to lie.

“a _boyfriend_?” she sounds scandalized, her voice a little too loud to be normal. “oppa, you left me for a _man_?”

some of the other people in the class turn to look at them, and younghyun starts to realize her plan. “i didn’t leave you,” he hisses. “you kicked me out of the apartment so the guy you cheated on me with could move in.”

around the room, a few eyebrows raise. there’s a weight on his chest, knowing she’s trying to air all their dirty laundry to the public, to his friends. it’s like he’s atlas, staggering under the weight of the world—under the weight of societal pressure, of fear and judgment—and scarlet nails are digging into his back trying to make him drop that weight directly onto his chest to crush his ribcage.

“also,” wonpil says, rolling his eyes, “you realize you’re at an arts university in 2018? you really think people are _that_ shocked that bi people exist?”

a bit of the pressure eases; he sucks in a breath, and though more heads turn the gazes he sees when he glances around seem more sympathetic than anything.

“of course they _exist_ ,” hyerim says. “that doesn’t mean what they’re doing is _right_.”

“but your cheating is?” jaehyeong’s a row behind them, and he scoffs when hyerim whips around to glare at him. “i’m not sure you’re the epitome of moral righteousness yourself, if i’m being honest. are you sure you have the right to critique younghyun’s life?”

there’s a muffled laugh from somewhere in the class, and hyerim’s eyes narrow. “there’s always a reason for cheating, though. i wasn’t getting what i needed from younghyun, maybe because he was only interested in men—”

“the reason for cheating,” wonpil says, “is that you’re a major bitch with commitment issues and an inability to see when someone is actually good for you.” he glances to younghyun, searching for something in younghyun’s face, and with a start he realizes wonpil wants the go-ahead to have this fight, is looking for reassurance younghyun doesn’t want to battle this out himself.

to be honest, younghyun’s still trying to breathe properly, trying to find a way to balance the pressure that doesn’t strain his muscles, so he thinks he nods faintly. all he can think of is the honey of her voice the first time he heard her sing, the taste of her strawberry lip gloss, the way she tossed his guitar out of the apartment door without a moment for the memories of him caring for it, the crushing weight of knowing she’d cheated and thought herself the victor.

somewhere in the back of his mind he hears wonpil continue: “we’re not middle-aged conservative assholes, and unlike some people i could name, most of us have a sense of ethics. you don’t have very strong grounds for your argument that younghyun’s relationship is the one morally unjustifiable.”

a hand—younghyun thinks it’s jaehyeong’s—touches his back softly, simultaneously grounding him and pulling him out of the cracks in the floor that this weight is forcing him down into. “hyerim,” jaehyeong says. “i don’t think you’re going to get much sympathy here. it might be better for you to stop now.”

younghyun breathes. hyerim begins to bite back, but before she can the professor walks in, apologizing for the delay; a meeting about performance schedules ran late, she says. hyerim’s mouth snaps shut, and the hand on his back squeezes his shoulder once before being replaced by wonpil pressing his arm against younghyun’s, and younghyun breathes.

the weight is still there, and remains when he walks back into thistledown jae notices immediately something’s off. he tugs younghyun upstairs, sits him on the couch, peers worriedly at him.

“hyerim’s in my seminar,” younghyun says breathlessly. giving voice to the words steals the air from his lungs, bears down on overused muscles. “she was—she was trying—”

“breathe,” jae says, slender fingers coming to rest over younghyun’s own. “she can’t touch you.”

“it’s—the problem is she was trying to touch _you_.” still, some of the weight eases. “before class she was trying to start all kinds of shit—i don’t know, rumors, insinuating dumb things, and it just—” he sighs. “it reminded me of stuff from our relationship, and i’m stuck in this weird combination of missing her and hating her.”

“what happened? you said _trying_ , so did something stop her?”

“wonpil and jaehyeong, mostly,” younghyun says. “called out some of her hypocrisies, that sort of thing.”

“good.” jae is looking at him _so_ seriously, and it somehow adds to the pressure that leaves him gasping. some part of him knows he _loves_ jae, enough that everything in him wants to never let him down, and this seriousness seems like something younghyun has every chance to fuck up. “younghyun,” jae says again, “breathe.”

reflexively younghyun gasps, and the press against his lungs lightens. “it’s like—i _know_ she’s a bad person, and she shattered my heart into a billion pieces and almost broke my guitar, but i really did love her, and i think i miss that.”

the emotion in jae’s eyes is one he knows, but giving name to it makes it tangible and he’s not sure he can do that. “you miss being in love?”

“no!” younghyun’s eyes widen, and he reaches desperately for jae; his boyfriend’s hand tangles with his easily. “i’m—i’m in love now, with you, obviously, and that’s great and wonderful and obviously i can’t miss _love_ in and of itself—but i miss being in love with _her_ sometimes, i think.”

jae nods, eyes soft. “i get that. is there any way i can help with that?”

“just—” younghyun considers. “i think i just need to make new memories with you and associate the feeling with you instead of her?”

“i can do that,” jae says, and he looks like he’s already scheming. younghyun breathes. “if you need anything,” jae continues, “just tell me. if something reminds you of her and you want me to not do that thing, i will. if you want to do something specifically _because_ it reminds you of her but this way it’s associated with me, we’ll do that. you don’t have to deal with these feelings on your own.”

it’s like there’s a second pair of hands joining his, a second set of muscles straining under the weight against his chest, but it’s so much easier when the work is split between two, and the pressure lightens considerably.

younghyun breathes.

  
...

 

october

looking back on it, younghyun probably shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was by the events of the halloween party.

after all, hyerim hadn’t lightened up, no matter how much his friends laugh her off, and he and jae _did_ pick a rather obvious costume. but hindsight bias is something his psychology course from last semester made him intimately familiar with, and they’d said they wanted to do a ghibli thing, and the second younghyun walked in the door with his hair dyed silver jae got excited, and younghyun is _terrible_ at telling jae no when he’s excited about something.

so here they are at this halloween party that’s a weird mix of university students and some people who recently graduated and still have friends within the student population, and younghyun has to admit jae makes a _great_ howl. he’s tall enough that when he has the costume on and he’s playing the character he has this _air_ about him, especially once he weaves a crown of delicate pink and white rosepink and sets it in his sandy hair. (they match the white daffodils on youngyun’s calendar, the symbol of new beginnings.)

younghyun’s busy adjusting his dark teal waistcoat as they walk into the party to notice hyerim and her boyfriend where they stand near the door. but the party’s less of a party and more of a hang-out-and-drink-together sort of thing, with a playlist of pieces the partygoers wrote themselves on more as background noise than anything, so it becomes difficult _not_ to notice hyerim. more specifically, it’s hard not to notice the loose white shirt and distinctive pink coat that hangs from her shoulders, hard not to notice the way her boyfriend’s hat looks eerily similar to younghyun’s own.

jae just squeezes his hand reassuringly and tugs him away to to talk to jaebeom and sungjin over by the couch. watching jae fall into easy conversation with his friends helps younghyun relax, and he joins in the banter quickly enough and soon forgets about hyerim.

maybe an hour or so in (younghyun kind of expected it to happen sooner) the playlist gets switched off and a few people bring out their own instruments and start coaxing friends to play. an aggressively friendly guy younghyun knows from his health and wellness course last year drags jaebeom and sungjin to the little performance space, despite their protests, and younghyun laughs. jackson is stubborn when he decides he wants something to happen, so jae’s friends aren’t going to wiggle out of this, and sure enough, they start setting up for a few songs.

jae grins fondly at them before turning to younghyun. “i’m gonna go get something to drink,” he says. “want anything?”

younghyun shrugs. “can’t vouch for how good the beer is, so—if they’ve got any kind of juice, that’ll do.”

with a nod jae slips away toward the kitchen and younghyun shifts his attention to the music; jaebeom and sungjin sound like they’ve been singing together for years, and their voices blend beautifully over the acoustic guitar sungjin plucks at gently.

he’s torn out of his appreciation for the music when someone sidles up to him and long pink nails come up to clutch at his arm. “trick or treat,” hyerim says, eyes glinting from behind the high collar of howl pendragon’s jacket.

for a moment younghyun is frozen, caught off-guard—she does look nice, the high-waisted black pants making her legs seem longer than ever, and the pink and gold of her jacket sets off her dark hair and eyes beautifully.

but there’s a brief pause in the music, a lull in conversation, and he hears jae’s laugh from the kitchen, loud and bright and filled with memories of sunshine, and he steels himself. “you’re all trick, hyerim, you know that.”

she smiles. “surely that’s not true, not when we were so happy together.”

“that’s the thing, though, you obviously weren’t happy with me,” younghyun says. “why else would you—”

“nice costumes!” he’s not entirely sure how bang chan got into this party, considering he’s a second-year, but he does have a lot of friends in higher years, so younghyun lets that go. “i love _howl’s moving castle_ , and you make such a cute couple!”

chan’s tipsy at best, a slight shine to his eyes, but he’s far from drunk and incapable of realizing what he said was wrong—it’s just that hyerim doesn’t correct him. he’s not in their friend groups, really, so there’s not really any way he’d know their backstory, but hyerim smiles that smile she gets when she wants to dazzle someone.

“thank you,” she says, honey-sweet, and then looks to younghyun for his reaction. he knows what she wants; she wants him to be flustered, to be caught up in emotions from their relationship, to fall back into loving her.

but he and jae have talked about this, and he’s getting better at distancing himself from those feelings, so he just smiles apologetically. “we’re not dating, chan,” he says. “i’m here with my boyfriend—he’s in the kitchen, i think.”

“oh!” chan’s eyes widen. “i didn’t mean—i’m sorry for assuming—”

“it’s fine,” younghyun says. “i understand why you’d come to that conclusion, but _my_ howl is getting drinks, and her sophie is—somewhere.” he tugs his arm out of hyerim’s grip so he can adjust his hat and inwardly he grins at the anger brimming in her eyes. “we broke up in january, so—”

“oh, january’s when we met,” jae says, and younghyun turns to see jae standing behind him. jae smiles petal-soft and hands younghyun a cup of what he discovers is apple juice before turning to chan. “i’m jae, younghyun’s boyfriend. are you by any chance bang chan? jinyoung was telling me about this second-year with a _gift_ for production, said he’s australian.”

chan grins up at jae. “that’s me! would you happen to be park jaehyung? the professors talk a lot about your final project—blood, right?” almost before jae admits to the statement chan’s pestering him to play it, and finally jae relents.

when jaebeom and sungjin finish their song it’s jae’s turn to settle into the seat and balance the guitar on his thigh and get a feel for its strings. he starts playing and it’s not that the room goes silent, not exactly, but the only thing younghyun can hear is jae, his voice sunshine-warm and golden.

younghyun’s also a musician, though, and maybe halfway through the song he finds his fingers unconsciously plucking bass chords, and he’s picking out places his falsetto would blend flawlessly with jae’s softer, more acoustic tone, and by the second chorus he’s wondering about the way wonpil’s voice would add variation and depth to their harmonies. he’s itching to drag jae to the studio and have wonpil improvise on his synth, let dowoon improve on the subtle drums in the background of the piece. (because they’ve heard it already, of course they have—the professors use it as an example constantly, a reputation it deserves.)

the last note fades out and jae might blush a little at the applause he receives, and when he sets the guitar down and adjusts his jacket on his shoulders and returns to younghyun, younghyun can’t help but stretch up to press a kiss to a cheek dusted pink.

“we should play together some time,” he says, and jae nods.

“i’d kind of forgotten how much i missed that.”

younghyun threads their fingers together, smiles up at jae, and when the next performer starts up he pulls jae with him as he begins swaying gently to the music. “i’d be happy to remind you.”

  
...

 

november

the third time hyerim misses class younghyun starts to get worried. wonpil suggests that she’s sick, and younghyun shoves away the knowledge of her almost-impeccable immune system and the time she caught a minor cold and kissed him to prove she was fine and ended up getting him sick as well and agrees, but he doesn’t really stop worrying.

when she skips two more classes in a row he talks to jae about it, and jae laughs softly.

“you’re too good of a person, hyun,” jae says. “she broke your heart, and you seem like you’ve moved past it, and yet here you are fretting over her ditching class a few times?”

“she’s still a person.” younghyun sighs. “she’s still a person, and i used to care about her, and—i don’t know, it just used to be so natural, to worry about her when things like this happened, and it’s a hard habit to break.”

“i get that.” jae finishes wrapping a bouquet and ties it neatly with blue string, hands it to the young man on the other side of the counter. “what do you want to do about it?”

“i don’t know,” younghyun says over the clatter of the register drawer bursting open. “i guess if she’s still not in class on monday i might go to her apartment.”

“just take care of yourself first,” jae says, as he gives the young man his change and waves. younghyun nods and goes back to the sheet music he’s checking over for saturday’s studio session with wonpil and dowoon.

ultimately his choice is made for him.

they’ve been at the studio for somewhere around two hours, adjusting chords and harmonies and goofing off, when there’s a knock at the door. younghyun glances at the others, but they both shrug; none of them were expecting visitors.

“come in,” younghyun calls, and the door swings open. hyerim stands there, but it takes him a second to realize it’s her—she’s in sweatpants and one of his old ratty hoodies and her hair’s a rat’s nest. she’s too careful about the reputation she’s cultivated to ever let herself out of her apartment looking like this, so something has to be wrong.

they’re all frozen for a moment, a tableau of awkwardness as wonpil and dowoon try to figure out who she is and what she might be doing here.

“ _younghyun_ ,” she wails, and then she’s throwing herself through the doorway and into his lap, and he has to set his guitar to the side hastily to avoid her crushing it, and she’s crying. sobbing, really.

he’s not completely sure what he’s supposed to do in this situation, but wonpil stands suddenly.

“we’ll just...leave you to it.” before younghyun can protest wonpil grabs dowoon and yanks him out of the room, and younghyun is left alone with a crying ex-girlfriend and uncertainty.

hesitantly he puts his hands on her back, tries—and mostly fails—to run his fingers through her knotted hair in the way he knows she likes when she’s being comforted.

“what’s—um, what’s wrong?”

she sobs. “chinhae—chinhae broke—he broke up with me.”

he’s really not sure what he’s supposed to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything, just hands her tissues from time to time and lets her cry. why would she have come to him? they hadn't had many conversations ( _any_ , to tell the truth) since she kicked him out of the apartment, and he knows she has other friends. he’d figured she would go to those friends when she had a problem, not him, but here they are. and he _was_ worried about her, so at least he got to see what was going on, it’s just that now that he knows the issue he’s even more confused about why she came to him specifically.

hyerim makes it pretty clear, however, when she calms down some. she sits up, shifts her head from the damp circle on his sweatshirt, and turns to look at the sheet music.

“your final project?” she asks, voice hoarse.

he nods, because what else is he supposed to do? he’s helpless, to an extent, to deny her things at the moment—his head is too filled with memories of this same situation, of days he knew he should be wrapping her up in blankets and singing softly until she fell asleep.

she snatches up the papers, scans them, and he winces when a stray tear drips onto one of the handwritten measures. “sing it for me?”

when she shoves the music at him younghyun sighs, knows he has to do something about the situation. as caught up in his head as he is, he recognizes the potential danger of the situation, if she’s trying to get him to do what he used to when they were dating. he takes the papers, says, “i really don’t think i should.”

she pouts, childish, blinks up at him with puppy-dog eyes that used to win him over instantly. “please? i don’t have anywhere else to go, oppa.”

“we both know that’s not true.” he’s trying to be gentle as he starts to push her off his lap, but she clings to him with something like desperation.

“oppa, _please._ ” she never used honorifics with him, not unless she was trying to manipulate him; usually it was light-hearted manipulation, buying her ice cream or letting her pick the movie or taking a break from studying to cuddle with her, but other times it was more serious, and he knows this is one of those times. she _wants_ something from him, and the more she wheedles and presses herself against him he starts to understand what.

“it’s a song about me, right?” she’s grasping at his sweatshirt desperately. “you wrote it for me?”

“no, hyerim,” he says, working to pry her hands away. “you broke my heart, and you have— _had_ another boyfriend. why would i still be writing love songs for you?”

“but it is!” the longer this goes on, the more he thinks the feverish light in her eyes is from something more than her emotions. “it _has_ to be—the first line, that’s when i threw you out, but you were still thinking about me! you still love me, i always knew it!” she stretches up, then, with more than just her hands. his head snaps back to avoid her searching lips, and then he can smell the alcohol.

it’s three in the afternoon, and two years’ worth of a relationship means he knows she doesn’t like to drink during the day, but here she is with flushed cheeks and soju on her breath and a plan, apparently, to get back together with him.

it _hurts_ , somehow, because he knows if she’d done this in february he would have thrown himself back at her just as furiously, but she’s nine months late. it hurts because he’s happy with jae, now, and it’s just like her to pick the time he’s finally moved on to want him back. she’s always been this selfish, he knows, and knowing her half of this is orchestrated to make him love her again. he’s always been quick to check up on people he’s worried about, so it wouldn’t shock him in the slightest if her absence from class was mostly to get him to come to the apartment.

this realization further hardens his resolve, replaces his memories of her smile during performances with jae’s sunshine grin. he does shove her off of his lap, then, pushes away his concern she might have hurt herself.

“hyerim,” he sighs, “the song isn’t for you, will never be for you. it’s for jae, my _boyfriend_ , who i’m not planning on breaking up with for you. i know you’re upset, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to throw yourself at me. this isn’t ever happening again.”

she blinks up at him with the doe eyes he fell in love with, but he purses his lips and stands and offers a hand and eventually, reluctantly, she takes it and pulls herself to her feet.

“i just want you to know,” she says, “that i still love you.”

“no, you don’t.” younghyun is firm as he guides her to the door. “you want a rebound, and you want it to be me because you know how to manipulate me— _used to_ know how to manipulate me.”

she hovers in the doorway. “younghyun—”

“goodbye, hyerim,” he says. “i’ll see you in class on monday.”

there are white tulips on his calendar this month, and while he’s never really liked them (she does, he remembers—he bought her some after her spring recital in third year) they’re flowers for forgiveness, and somehow he knows he does forgive her.

wonpil and dowoon are wide-eyed and hesitant when he beckons them back in, but he gives them a reassuring smile.

“she’s just upset, but she’ll be fine in a few days. now,” he says, clapping his hands and reshuffling his papers, “let’s hurry up. i have a date with jae tonight, and i need to look much more presentable than this.”

  
...

 

december

christmas day dawns sunny and crisp, snow dusting the sidewalk and making the string lights in the display window glow like stars. younghyun is the first one awake, and he hums carols as he makes breakfast and plugs in the lights on the little tree they dragged up the spiral staircase and decorated haphazardly.

the smell of bacon is likely what wakes jae up, and he comes stumbling from the bedroom with mussed hair and the dumb rudolph pajama pants younghyun teases him about.

(the room younghyun stayed in originally has become his study, after one particularly eventful night in october.)

he putters up to where younghyun stands at the stove and wraps his arms around younghyun’s waist and sighs with contentment as he drops his head onto younghyun’s shoulder. “smells good, hyun.”

“it’ll smell even better if you go get coffee brewing,” younghyun offers, but jae shakes his head without removing it from younghyun’s shoulder, digging his chin into the tendon in a way that feels rather pleasant.

“hot chocolate.” he drops a kiss on younghyun’s neck and untangles himself to move to a cabinet, and younghyun has to set his spatula down and _breathe_ for a minute, surprised by the sudden affection.

“are you awake enough to go without coffee?” he flips the bacon and turns to study jae, who’s pulling milk from the fridge.

“it’s a tradition,” jae explains. “mom started it when we wanted to drink something warm with mom and dad on christmas morning but were too young for coffee, and it stuck.”

younghyun smiles softly; he knows jae misses his parents in the states, and he may or may not be saving the money he gets from busking to get plane tickets as a graduation present.

when jae approaches the stove to start heating the milk they bump hips and smile at each other, a habit they’ve picked up from countless mornings cooking together. jae’s eyes reflect the multi-color christmas lights, dark irises dancing with sparks of color.

“i’ll sort the presents while you finish that,” younghyun says, turning to shift the bacon and eggs onto the plates he’d set out earlier. “don’t skimp on the whipped cream.”

“wouldn’t dream of it,” jae says, and younghyun grins over his shoulder as he walks into the living room.

they’d agreed to use different wrapping paper to make gifts easy to distinguish, and in a few minutes younghyun’s got two small piles on the couch and jae’s carrying two steaming mugs to the coffee table. he drops a kiss on younghyun’s lips as he sits down, mouth sugar-sweet from stolen marshmallows. younghyun turns the old stereo on to play christmas carols as they eat with their hips and thighs pressed against each other, shoulders brushing when they bring their forks up to take a bite.

the silence is comfortable, familiar, easy; as much as he’s anticipating the excitement wonpil and dowoon will bring, and the steady chatter of sungjin and jaebeom, when they go have dinner at sungjin’s apartment, he doesn’t want to lose the serenity of this moment.

he trades his fork for his phone and snaps a picture of jae, who glances up at the last minute with his mug halfway to his lips and laughs, and younghyun grins back and takes more pictures, a stop-motion of sunshine and sugar and affection. in retaliation jae raises his own phone, and younghyun yelps and raises a pillow to his face for self-defense, but he’s laughing.

when they finish eating they clear some space on the coffee table and turn to presents. they each got the other a few little gag gifts, and younghyun ends up with a stuffed chick and a pair of socks decorated with succulents and bacon-strip band-aids while jae delights in the tiny violin and the rubber fox whose eyes pop out when he squeezes it and the american flag socks. without hesitation they both tear the packaging on their new socks and slip them on and laugh, and then they move to the more serious gifts.

jae gestures for younghyun to start, so he struggles momentarily with the wrapping paper before revealing an apparel box. “is this why i found you in the closet inspecting the tags on all my jackets?”

“just open it,” jae says, but he smiles fondly and doesn’t deny the accusation.

when he lifts the lid younghyun finds a leather jacket, so like the one he left at hyerim’s apartment he thinks for a moment jae went and stole his jacket back. but he looks more closely and rather than the rose patch on the original this one has cactus pins on the collar and a patch ironed onto the left sleeve of calcifer from _howl’s moving castle_.

“she likes my spark,” younghyun murmurs, as he traces the dancing cursive beneath the fire demon.

“i sure do,” jae says, and he winks when younghyun glances up, startled. younghyun huffs out a laugh and sets the apparel box to the side so he can reach forward to press his lips to jae’s, lick the chocolate from jae’s upper lip, and he smiles into the kiss.

“thank you, hyung,” he whispers.

“i haven’t even opened yours,” jae says. “hold off on the kissing, or i’ll get distracted.”

with another smile and one last quick kiss younghyun moves back to let jae open his gift. it’s nothing as flashy as a leather jacket, but jae seems to understand the significance of the cd he finds under the wrapping paper.

“are these—”

“songs i wrote.” younghyun nods. “my day is my final for my recital prep, and it’s—” he coughs, a little shy. “it’s for you.”

jae’s eyes flash up from where he was reading the tracklist, gleaming with excitement. “you wrote a song for me?”

“i’ll play it for you,” younghyun says to his hands, “if you want.”

“if i want?” jae grabs younghyun’s hands, raises them to his lips so he can kiss younghyun’s fingertips. “of course i want! i would love to hear it, hyun.”

with a relieved smile younghyun reaches around the couch to pick up the guitar he’d placed there earlier, and he settles it on his knee and plucks an experimental chord, clears his throat, and hesitates.

“you don’t have to,” jae says softly. “i’ll hear it either way, but you know i’ll love anything you’ve created, especially when you made it for me.”

“i—” younghyun’s voice cracks a little. “i know. thank you, hyung.”

he brushes his fingers over the body of the guitar, grounds himself in the wood and varnish he knows as well as he knows himself, and then sets his hands for the first note.

jae gives him a reassuring smile, but when younghyun starts playing the smile turns into amazement. as he moves through the achingly-familiar measures and notes he wrote and rewrote and agonized over younghyun pulls confidence from the glow in jae’s eyes and the complete stillness of jae’s constantly-moving hands, and he pours every bit of love he’s felt into his voice.

the song is of sunshine and red x's on white calendar pages and a steadiness as constant as the earth’s rotation, and he wants— _needs_ —jae to feel it.

the last note rings into silence and then jae’s surging forward, pausing to set younghyun’s guitar aside as gently as possible, and then continuing to tug younghyun into a kiss. his hand cups younghyun’s cheek and younghyun’s fingers tangle in jae’s hair and their hearts beat against each other where their chests press together, and for all the love younghyun pulled from himself to put into the song he knows this is jae’s way of returning it in kind, and for a while he forgets they’re separate people.

the need to breathe, unfortunately, arises after a while, but they refuse to separate very much; younghyun’s arms stay around jae’s neck, and jae’s hand slides down to rest against younghyun’s bicep, and their eyelashes brush when they blink.

“younghyun,” jae murmurs, breathless, “i don’t want to say i’m happy you got your heart broken, but you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, unfortunate meeting aside.”

“well,” younghyun says, just as quietly, “you know what they say. the best blaze burns brightest when circumstances are at their worst, and you _know_ how much i relate to sophie hatter—”

“i respect your love for ghibli, but did you _really_ have to ruin my moment?” jae groans, but he’s smiling, and younghyun’s struck suddenly by how much he’ll do to keep that smile on jae’s lips.

red roses, he notes a few days later as he crosses out the last day of december, are for devotion and love, and nothing could better describe the way his year has gone. he caps the pen, sets the calendar in a drawer, and pads into the living room to drop a kiss on the top of jae’s head and join him in the blankets he’s swathed in, and they watch the falling snow bring with it the new year and promises of new beginnings.

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like i had stuff to say about this but i really don't remember what that stuff is. it's almost midnight and i'm sleepy. uhhhh  
> idk how guitar performance majors or korean university schedules work and i did only little bits of research for them so if there are details that are wrong oh well, that's where i'm at with it  
> sorry if september and maybe august feel wildly different in terms of writing style from the rest of the fic? that was the mood that day and i like the metaphors so i'm keeping them. it's my fic i do what i want  
> find me on tumblr @dawnpil and twitter @hihenlo!!  
> 


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